


Impostor Among Them

by Ealasaid



Series: A Human Condition [2]
Category: 1917 (Movie 2019), Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Alien Character(s), Alien Impostor(s) (Among Us), Alien Perspective, Alternate Universe - Among Us (Video Game) Setting, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Canon-Typical Violence, Cerberus Syndrome, Cuddling & Snuggling, Found Family, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Impostors are shapeshifters, Insomnia, Intimidation, Mira HQ (Among Us), Nightmares, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shapeshifting, Torture, Violence, Whump, Will!whump, so much comfort cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28515201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ealasaid/pseuds/Ealasaid
Summary: After surviving the Skeld, the Blakes, Richards and Schofield have a month before the long-term assignment on Polus begins.  In the meantime, Schofield can quietly learn to blend in with Even More Humans in MIRA Headquarters.
Relationships: Joseph Blake & Lieutenant Richards, Joseph Blake & Lieutenant Richards & Tom Blake & William Schofield, Joseph Blake & Tom Blake, Joseph Blake & William Schofield, Tom Blake & Lieutenant Richards, Tom Blake & William Schofield
Series: A Human Condition [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2088822
Comments: 114
Kudos: 32





	1. MIRA HQ

The shuttle touches down on the Launchpad. After a moment, their safety belts click to Release them. Schofield is not the only one who takes a moment to Stretch: the ride has not been long, but the Seats feel Cramped. 

MIRA HQ is a temporary placement. While Ben and Joe and Tom have a lengthy long-term assignment working on Polus to which they are looking forward, there is still some time between when they will be needed on site. In the interim, they have signed up for a stint at their Company's Headquarters.

Schofield wishes he could say he was looking forward to it. It has been a week since they left the Skeld. Given all the travel, the Humans were all too tired themselves to feel the need to bother him about not sleeping, which is an improvement from being on the Skeld that last week or so, except . . . Well, he probably should sleep, actually. It has been a while. There is only so much Schofield can supplement with food and he can tell that he is quickly reaching the end of his limits. 

"Mind the edges," Ben reminds them all, hefting his bag over his shoulder. "The wind will blow you over them if you're not careful."

It is not a joke. Outside, they are buffeted by winds strong enough to knock both Joe and Ben back a step; Schofield is prepared and has managed to activate the tack-boots of his suit in time so that all he does is sway. Tom staggers dramatically and flails. Joe and Schofield both grab him. Other Humans -- the Shuttle's Crew -- hop out easily. They are part of a Supply Run that comes regularly to the Atmosphere Headquarters and are unfazed by the winds gusting around them as they begin to unload crated cargo.

Joe tugs Tom forward as Ben sets out; Schofield follows, squinting in the face of Wind that makes his Already Tired eyes ache more. The Launchpad is flat and open. There are poles girding the exterior, linked with a fine cable mesh. It rises just a little over Schofield's head -- there to catch any unwary Crewmates who are knocked off their feet with no fellows or tack-boots to catch them. The Launchpad only has the space to accommodate one shuttle at a time: the rest of the area is crowded with all sorts of control panels and one corner has cargo crates stacked and netted down.

As newcomers, though, they avoid all of that and go straight for a sloping corridor at the other end. The pressure of the wind cuts off abruptly as they enter, though it still whistles eerily through some crack even with the door shut. 

Unlike with the work on the Skeld, there is someone here to Greet them. She is a Shorter Human, with hair that is Very Short and Curly. She smiles and waves at them, but Schofield cannot get a feel for her Human emotions from this distance. 

In contrast, Schofield can sense it easily when Tom and Joe both brighten with excitement and Happiness, enough to cheer him out of his tiredness momentarily. "Auntie!" Tom says out loud. He and Joe hurry a little ahead of Ben and Schofield for one of those Human Hugs and she laughs when they offer her a kiss from each of them. 

Joe introduces both of them. "Aunt Polly, you know Ben," he says, waving to Ben, who offers his Hand. "Hello again, Pol'," he says with a smile as she clasps and shakes it. 

"And this is Scho -- Schofield," Joe adds, clapping Schofield's shoulder. "Our newest companion!" 

Schofield copies Ben's gesture and holds out his Hand. "It is nice to meet you," he says. 

"Well! Aren't you polite," she says, eyes crinkling. It is very similar to how Joe looks when he is amused. It makes Schofield like her more, to see that, and the Kindness he feels in her grip is something that warms him. "It's nice to meet you as well, Schofield."

Introductions made, Aunt Polly ushers them along, chatting the whole way with Ben. She is going to take them to the local personnel commander, whom Ben knows already. Ben has spent time working here before and, right now, he and Aunt Polly are exchanging information about mutual acquaintances.

Schofield focuses on the layout as best he can. They pass by the Medbay, obvious from the plastic-upholstered gurneys and brighter-than-standard illumination. There is a smaller, darker room with a massive monitor just past that, and opposite that, a large open space with a tiled floor and tall, narrow compartments lining one of the walls. 

The corridor after that is amazing. The walls and ceiling are all transparent -- glass, manufactured in such a way that it curves overhead. Strips of lights are set into the sides of the floor, though they are not on at the moment. Currently, the sun outside is sufficient that the whole thing is bright, very bright, and noticeably warmer than the areas through which they were just passing.

The others do not really share Schofield's interest. Tom makes a face and edges towards the middle of the floor, feeling Uneasy; Joe is Nervous, in a way that makes Schofield want to Reassure him. Ben is pretending he is Not as Anxious as he is.

Aunt Polly, however, pays hardly any notice to it. "It's just up here," she says, and then, as they exit the glassy corridor and -- "Ah! Commander, I didn't know you would be here as well."

The office is carpeted and large, although it feels close after the Endless Vista of the sky-corridor. Inside are three people. 

These are all men. Two are seated facing each other and look up as they enter: a tall man with a scar over one eye and a shorter, thicker man with a Friendly expression. The third man is standing. He has close-trimmed facial hair with an orange tint that Schofield has not seen in Humans before. 

"Ah, Richards!" says the one with the friendly expression. He gets up and shakes Ben's hand, and then Joe's and Tom's and Schofield's. Schofield gets hardly anything from it by way of emotions, but his Grip is firm and his smile does not falter. "Glad to have you back on board."

"Glad to be back, Hepburn," Ben says. "Just needed a few spare hands about, yeah?"

Hepburn nods. "Good thing you lot came along," he says. "MIRA wasn't sure if they could shift people out here fast enough. Everywhere is short-staffed at the moment."

Schofield tunes the rest out, uninterested. He leans on Tom, feeling his Body ache; he needs to Eat. Tom, kindly, does not start fidgeting for several minutes.

"Journey was long, eh?" Hepburn notes eventually. "Well go on, get yourselves settled -- we have a work roster for you to start tomorrow, but you've got the rest of today to situate yourselves."

"Welcome to Headquarters," the man seated behind the desk says, tone deadpan and expression cool. With that, they are dismissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! That fluff I wrote that started this whole thing? --yeah . . . that, uh. That has been expanded into a whole other fic . . . 
> 
> So, um, NO idea how many chapters there will be. I'm guessing 5? Updates will be shortish and frequent, so who even KNOWS! Let's find out together :)


	2. Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this and running off to reply to last chapter's comments! <3

Aunt Polly excuses herself after she leads them to where the Bunks are, promising to see them again at dinner. The Bunks are very nice. Here in the Headquarters there is more space -- the Four of them have Two rooms to share. Joe and Tom take one and Ben and Schofield take the other. 

"D'you want the top or the bottom?" Ben asks, waving at the Stacked Beds. 

Schofield's Body seems to be unusually heavy. He _really_ needs to eat. "Whichever you don't want," he says, fighting the Urge to Lie Down and close his Eyes.

Ben starts to say something but stops and takes a second look at Schofield. He frowns a little. "Are you doing all right there?"

Schofield shrugs. "Just tired from travel, I expect," he replies, and changes the subject. "You took top at the Skeld, right? I can be on the top bunk here."

The Cafeteria is Nice and the level Above the Bunks. In Addition to the standard meal replicator, there is a Beverage Machine with drinks that were produced On-Planet. Joe and Tom and Ben are all very enthusiastic about it; they have Schofield try each of their drinks. Schofield likes Joe's box of Almond Milk the most. Ben's Coffee is bitterly sweet to Schofield's taste and Tom's DonDew makes Schofield's Eyes feel Jittery. They are much amused by his reactions.

Schofield eats as much food as he can Reasonably get away with Replicating. He will have to be more cautious that his Intake is unnoticed -- they are not on the half-empty Skeld with no one to comment on it. The caloric intake should be enough to give him a temporary Reprieve from his Tiredness.

The schedule they Have is not a complicated one. Although MIRA HQ is an Orbital station in the planet's Atmosphere, the day/night cycle on the ship does not mirror the actual solar rotation of the Sun. This planet is one with a long solar rotation -- something like 40 hours -- and that is Not Conducive to Human sleep patterns. As a result, the day/night is still on a 24 hour schedule. According to Ben, the trickiest part of this is getting up and working through the planet's dark night during one 'day' and then having the next shift be during the planet's day -- "Seeing the sun some shifts and not on others is very strange," he adds, rueful. "At least in space you know it's always night outside." 

After lunch, they have much time to themselves. Despite his Best Intentions, Schofield finds he falls Asleep during some of it. 

He is in Electrical. Joe is performing the Standard Calibrations, his back to Schofield. "I was thinking about giving Tom the mobile and getting another one," Joe says without turning around. "What do you think?"

"You need to go," Schofield says. His hand pulls the handle of the Sword and it Appears. He has no control over it. "Joe -- Joe, _move--"_

Joe turns around. He does not seem to have heard Schofield. "He really wants it," says Joe, completely ignoring how Schofield's arms raise the sword. 

Schofield fights and fights and fails to slow his arms. He is desperate. "I can't stop it," he pleads. "Joe, please -- run, Joe!" But Joe does not. He stands there and watches as Schofield swings the sword and cuts him in half. 

At the first Dream Image of blood leaking from a Red Suit, Schofield wakes up in Panic. He flails and falls out of His Bunk.

There isn't anyone in the room. It is both terribly relieving and horribly wounding that he is alone. Schofield lies on the floor, his breath fast and shallow, trying to sort through both the shock of landing and the bewildering emotions and does not manage to come to any conclusion. 

After some time, the coolness of the metal beneath him chills the Sweat and makes him shiver. He is oddly numb. 

The sound of footsteps in the corridor outside the room jolt him into moving. Schofield gets to his feet, unbalanced, and prepares -- and the steps continue down the corridor. Someone else, then, and not His Humans.

Schofield takes a deep breath. He pushes himself into Doing Something and settles on splashing his face with water from the Tiny Sink in an effort to hide the Redness of his eyes. Then, he goes looking for them, feeling a vague sense of dread that they will all be dead.

His fears are unfounded. He finds them Next Door, in Tom and Joe's room, playing Cards. Tom and Ben are occupied arguing over the legality of a particular play on Ben's part, so no one comments when Schofield takes a seat next to Joe.

"Did you have a good nap?" Joe asks as Schofield leans against him. "We couldn't wake you -- we figured you needed the sleep . . ."

"Fine," Schofield croaks, closing his eyes. Feeling the press of Joe against him is indescribably reassuring. "Great."

He senses Joe's uncertainty -- Schofield is not being very convincing right now. But Joe is kind and does not push him for more.

They make the rest of the Day pass quickly. Dinner rolls around in the middle of a spectacular sunset and Aunt Polly joins them. Everyone has a soporific beverage and the Mood is High. Ben and Aunt Polly have a good time Reminiscing about a previous time they worked together, elsewhere, and Joe and Tom are riveted when Aunt Polly tells them a story about their mother, who was her younger sister. Schofield pays attention to the expressions on Tom and Joe's faces and wonders what it is like to have a Mother.

Such musings are all he has, later. Schofield does not try to sleep again. He practices patience for as Long as he can -- maybe three hours -- before he has to get up. 

Perhaps the nap after lunch was a mistake. It feels as though Schofield is going mad, now. He itches to move -- he cannot stay still if he does not want to sleep. This thought creeps Under his skin and makes him feel Restless in a painful, fearful way -- he does not want to see His Humans Die by His Hand. Schofield does not recall it being like this on the Skeld and does not Understand why it is like this, now.

Perhaps it is this Anxiety that drives him to Walk. That is just as well. Schofield cannot sleep and he cannot keep still -- even now, Ben is stirring, Disturbed by Schofield's pacing. Schofield takes the time to put on his suit but forbears his helmet and goes for a walk.

It is Night on the Planet, or at least, the End of Twilight. The Sky outside is a Deep Purple, shading to Black. It is nothing like the dark of the Eternal Vacuum. There is light, from a Hundred Thousand stars and Two moons, fat and full, though one is still rising and only halfway over the planet's horizon. 

Schofield has seen moons before, but he has not seen them before he became Free. The Sight is oddly moving, here, alone. One moon is gold and warm, almost as Warm as the Sun; the color makes him think of Leaning against Joe, earlier today. The other moon is cool and blue, the whitest blue, almost like this Shape's Eyes, and is Nice to Look at. 

Schofield finds himself in the Greenhouse. Here, even the ceiling is glass, though the thick growth of the vines that rise from their beds half-obscures the glass above; it looks as though it has been recently pruned. He can smell the drying Sap and the damp Soil and the Freshness. He does not remember the last time he was somewhere that Wasn't Artificial and this is a Real Treat. He twines his hands into the tangle of vine trunks and presses his face into it. There is something comforting about the green life. It pulses Organically . . . he could try Reshaping as it, sometime . . . maybe he could try sleeping in here? Schofield wonders if that is something that is Allowed.

Caught up in the whisper of the branches and the rustling leaves prompted by the fans' artificial breezes, Schofield does not notice the other person until he hears the breathy hiss of metal as it slices the air. There is a peculiar jolt that shocks through his spine which is followed by a queer sense of detachment, and then Schofield finds he is on the floor and blinking at the base of the raised planter. He tries to move, to roll over, but nothing works right, and Schofield does not know what is happening and does not have the time to figure it out before the Moons go dark. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MWAH MWAH MWAH TheLoneLamp and MagicalTear and writeyourownstory and Bex! <3 <3 <3
> 
> As you can tell, I have been replaying MIRA HQ a LOT. Probably my favorite series of games is where someone joked about getting killed as "getting railed," which led to a lobby where killing was called "railing" and Impostors only did it if asked in the chat. (No Non-Consensual Railing, kids!) Many corpse parties were had that evening :) 
> 
> Next chapter will be up in a day or twoooooo~


	3. Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adrian = Major (Adrian) Hepburn  
>  Edmund = Colonel (Edmund) Mackenzie](https://mangalho.tumblr.com/post/616777049596657664/mal-criad%C3%A3o-do-caralho-p%C3%A1-puta-que-pariu-n%C3%A3o-sei-a)   
> 

Adrian grimaces at the mess in front of him. Edmund's swordwork is as neat as ever, but it does mean there is an awful lot of blood sheeting over the metallic tiles of the Greenhouse floor. The Impostor's rubber-coated Blue Suit is absurdly bright compared to the fading brown of it, even in the barely-there pink of the planet's pre-dawn.

Ignoring the jangle of Human Nerves that always kicks in about now, he hits the alert on his mobile and radios their head of Security. "Sandbach, I need you at the Greenhouse immediately," Adrian says crisply into the receiver. 

His mobile crackles acknowledgement. Within minutes, Sandbach is grimacing down at the mess with Adrian. "Impostors again?" he asks, aggrieved. The Human feels like annoyance more than anything.

"It appears so," Adrian says. 

"You'd think they'd stop trying after a while," Sandbach comments, shaking his head, and then barks for a clean-up crew to come get it all sorted.

The difficulty this time, Adrian muses seriously, is how to spin it. This Impostor came alone. There is no convenient and easily-identifiable Impostor partner whom he and Edmund can frame, and neither of them particularly fancy setting up (relatively) innocent Humans to appear as the guilty party. Too, this Impostor arrived at Headquarters with a former employee and the relatives of another current one -- framing any of them has the potential for disaster. 

Well, perhaps they can plant the idea that one of the supply crew went AWOL and a body appeared elsewhere. It has happened before . . .

He and Harvey store the body in the corpse locker in Medbay. Adrian feels a sympathetic pang as they maneuver the two halves into the drawer: regaining Mass is such a Dreadful prospect that he does Regret the necessity of cutting the Impostor in half. This one had a lot of it to lose, tall as he was. --Then again, they are not going to give him much of an opportunity  _ to _ regain it, so Adrian supposes the point is Moot.

Richards and the two Blakes are Late to the meeting and project great Distress. The youngest is glaring at the eldest, who in turn is pretending he is not glaring at Richards, and Richards looks very unhappy; he has spots of color high on his face. McCrory, the Blakes' relative, is confused and concerned, but her inquiries go unanswered, if her momentary dissatisfaction is anything to go by. 

This changes when Edmund announces the Impostor's death. After a brief moment, the three of them turn absolutely white and  **_horror_ ** and  **_disbelief_ ** comes out of them so strongly that it is a Wonder Edmund does not stumble as he explains the particulars of the 'discovery' of the body. 

These are normal signs of grief. The strength of it is a tad surprising -- Adrian cannot fathom how Humans have come to form such Attachments to an Impostor. Adrian also wonders a little that none of them feel as much like fear so much as that horror. It is unlike the rest of the Humans. --Well, to be fair, most of the rest of the Humans are only vaguely fearful anyway. This has both occurred and been overcome before. 

It is entirely unsurprising that the employees at MIRA HQ vote to abstain: with both Edmund and Adrian laying out the facts and the lack of any suspicious activity overall (Edmund is far too clever to be caught) there is no reason to vote anyone off. The meeting concludes satisfactorily. In a few days, someone will hear a rumor about bodies being found elsewhere that the supply shuttle has visited, and that will be that.

Richards catches Adrian before he can quite make his escape. "We'd like to see him," the Human tells Adrian, feeling most strongly of a numb denial when his fingers brush against Adrian's. It is not an unusual request for Humans to make, particularly if they are close to the deceased, but it is the first time for which this favor has been asked of one of the Impostors he and Edmund have eliminated.

"Were you together long?" Adrian asks, keeping his tone gentle. Humans consider Gentleness a Kindness. 

"Long enough," Richards says, eyes flicking to the side. The two Blakes nod. 

Both brothers vacillate between disbelieving and shocked as they follow Adrian to the corpse locker; McCrory follows with a faint sense of duty and concern, but more overwhelmingly, Stunned. Richards, keeping pace with Adrian, remains firmly in denial. Unusually, there is an odd note of hope in one of them -- Adrian can't quite tell in whom -- as they make their way to Medbay. It does not stop the four of them utterly losing their composure when Adrian draws the sheet back and shows the face of this Impostor.

"No," the younger Blake protests. "This can't be right. How did he -- there's not a mark on him--"

"He was cut in half," Adrian says, surprised. He does not have to feign his hesitation. "I thought -- well, I didn't think it best to show you . . ."

The younger grabs the sheet anyway and pulls it down further. He recoils at what is there. Adrian winces, too; the sudden  **_nonononono_ ** of grief is palpable, as is the sudden urge to Vomit, which is visceral enough from McCrory as to be nearly an emotion of its own. 

Richards's movements are jerky as he reaches around the younger Blake and carefully pulls the sheet up again. Deliberate as he is, it has not quite sunk in for him, yet.

"We're -- going to need some time this morning," he tells Adrian, voice scratchy. (McCrory discreetly vomits in the trash can.) "Sorry. We -- he's a friend of ours. He's-- He's . . ."

This is a more familiar Ground. "Take the first half of your shift if you need it," Adrian tells them. Richards and the older Blake nod; the younger does not move at all, staring at the Impostor on the table. They need a moment to Collect Themselves.

Adrian dislikes dealing with Human grief greatly; it is overwhelming if he is not careful about it. So he makes sure to stand a respectful Distance and tries to offer bland pretensions of privacy as the three of them make appropriate gestures of Farewell -- closing the eyelids, touching the cheek, so on. 

Fortunately, they are easily shooed away after that. Adrian pulls the sheet up again and carefully activates the parasitic motion Sensor inside the drawer. It is not likely that this Impostor will Revive within the next 24 hours, but it is a possibility, and he and Edmund cannot afford to waste the opportunity. 

The Day passes. Adrian and Edmund wait until well after Richards and the Blakes finish their work. Accessing the Cafeteria's logs reveals a large quantity of soporific beverages have been Replicated, which explains the general Aura of Bewildered Sadness Adrian senses when he casually patrols the Living Quarters that evening, and indicates that it is the Perfect evening for Relocation.

"Everything went well, then?" Edmund asks quietly, meeting him in Medbay later that day.

"As well as can be," Adrian replies. He pulls the drawer open. "We've got roughly seven minutes and twenty seconds before Kimmerick comes through."

The corpse locker is resealed and the Medbay is neatened in five. In ten, they have successfully relocated the torso -- thoroughly Wrapped with surplus bandages to keep the limbs from making the burden unwieldy; this Impostor's Human build was  _ Tall _ \-- to the cramped, hidden Compartment beneath Edmund's quarters, allocated to him as Commander.

They let themselves out through a false panel into Edmund's Room. Adrian finds himself Moved to clap Edmund on the shoulder in a Gesture of Camaraderie, Feeling both the Emotional and physical strain. He hates it when Their Peace is Threatened. 

"I suppose you're about to become very, very ill, aren't you?" he says, trying for something light -- something to Cheer.

Edmund's expression of friendly reciprocation has always appeared terrifying, no matter the Shape. "Good time for a holiday," he replies, just as quietly Worried. "I trust you'll manage?"

"Always," Adrian promises, and returns to his own quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something something, updating at midnight, more to come soon! 
> 
> xoxoxox to TheLoneLamp, writeyourownstory, and poor MagicalTear <3 <3 <3


	4. Priorities

Adrian and Edmund do not make a Production of Edmund's "Illness." That night, Edmund Reshapes enough to have a higher Base temperature, High enough to Register as a Fever to Humans, and in the Morning he Feigns other Symptoms. McCrory, who occasionally acts as a Nurse, Drags him into the Medbay. Edmund puts up a convincing show of Reluctance that McCrory is not Suspicious when he capitulates. Before the standard Breakfast is over, he is exiled to his Quarters. 

All in all, it takes very little time. This is just as well. One of them needs to be on hand for the Impostor when he Revives, or else he may Reshape into a form that is useless for communication. It is Imperative he does not. Adrian and Edmund have spent Far Too Long out of The Host's control to Risk being Retaken; neither of them wish to return. They must know what The Host are planning.

The Impostor does not Revive the following Day, which turns out to be as uneventful as the one previous. Adrian spends it acting like "business as usual," but he does go out of his Way to avoid being in the same vicinity as the Blakes and Richards -- they are all generally Confused and actively Sad and, for the youngest in particular, it is being Expressed as anger. 

It makes Adrian's head ache when he tries to parse it. Humans are Delightfully Expressive -- it is why he and Edmund Chose to stay -- and in less unusual circumstances, Adrian would enjoy the flow of Feeling throughout Headquarters. However, the clear Grief the three of them feel is something that reminds the other Humans on the staff of their own Losses, personally, and the general Vibe of MIRA HQ this day is depressingly subdued.

Adrian focuses instead on the most Probable of the Possible outcomes. This Impostor was sent for a reason. Adrian's Personal hope is that this Impostor is a lone Operative, sent to Probe for weakness at this Headquarters. This Headquarters is a Regional Office and not the true Company flagship, but they still facilitate operations in this quadrant of space. It would make sense to send a Lone Operative for gathering Intelligence, a Vanguard for a more coordinated Infiltration. 

Less Savoury is the possibility that this Impostor is being used as a Decoy. It would be exceedingly easy to send one or two other Impostors via the supply shuttle's Crew just to have them slip away and hide in the darker corners of MIRA HQ. Edmund has sensors set up within the vents but any skilled Operative can find and disable those -- exceptional ones can Reprogram them so that Edmund will never know they were tampered with. 

Both possibilities are Worrying. There is only so much he and Edmund can do to Respond in the event of a Concentrated Attack. Still, the first one is much easier to meet -- if this Impostor never returns, there is a chance that The Host will simply write off this Station for the time being. Perhaps they can buy another few years' peace.

If not . . .

Preoccupied by these thoughts, Adrian is mildly surprised when, in the afternoon, Richards and the Younger Blake find him working in the office after their shift has ended. Their Sadness remains, but there is a new thread of Determination-- 

\--and something like Hope? Adrian's interest sharpens and he sets aside his packet compilation of recent seismic data from Polus. What sort of request might they have that produces Hope?

"Gentlemen," he says to acknowledge them, but forebears rising from behind his desk. "What can I do for you?"

Blake and Richards trade a look. "Thank you for letting us have a moment of your time," Richards begins, carefully. He has got the hesitancy of someone who is Choosing his Words. "We have a -- rather unusual request . . ."

"Schofield didn't have a next of kin," Blake jumps in, Anxious, but trying to hide it the way Richards does. "We wanted to ask that we take -- erm -- possession of his . . . his remains."

Oh. Well  _ that _ is certainly going to be a problem. 

"We don't feel right, knowing that he doesn't have anyone to lay him to rest, properly," Richards adds smoothly. 

Adrian rubs a hand over his mouth and sits back slowly, busy constructing an excuse they will accept. Blake watches, expectant; he thinks this is not a request Adrian will turn down. Richards, however, is picking up on the body language -- Adrian's reluctance is coming through -- but he is still hoping otherwise. Adrian is genuinely sorry that he will have to disappoint them both.

"I'm afraid not," Adrian says after a suitable moment has passed. "I really wish I could grant that request, but I regret to inform you that you are too late. His body was shipped back yesterday."

"What?" Blake says, startled. "But -- wait, how?"

"It is standard procedure for Headquarters," Adrian lies calmly. He prepares for the anger he feels building up in the younger Human. "We ship all crewmate remains within a day of their passing. Right now, the -- Schofield's body is en route to his origin station."

"No," Blake protests, sharp. There is a surprising amount of fear in it. "What? No, you can't--"

"I don't recall that being standard procedure," Richards slips into the conversation, neutrally. It halts Blake mid-sentence.

Adrian senses the sudden  _ intent _ interest from both of them. He feels a most Human urge to swear. "It is a recent change," he deflects in response, casual. "We've had a few attempted infiltrations in the past few years. Given the rate of casualty, it seemed necessary."

Blake is watching Richards, who is watching Adrian. Adrian sees the way Richards's eyes narrow, though it is difficult to tell what emotion is behind it -- there are a lot of things flickering through him. 

"I do wish you had come to me earlier with this," Adrian continues when it is clear that Richards is not going to comment. "Had you let me know earlier -- perhaps a day ago--"

"But you didn't tell us, then!" Blake snaps, face flushing with a very nasty mix of feelings. They are all sharp and Uncomfortable, and Adrian is getting Another headache.

"Really? I must apologise for that," Adrian says. There is enough of an edge to his tone that Blake is Momentarily deterred from speaking back and Adrian takes the opportunity to move the conversation Along. "If you like, I can look up his origin station. I don't know if you will be able to catch up in time, but . . ."

He trails off. It is not really an option any of them would logically pursue, given their current contract, but the option -- the illusion -- is there. 

Blake is very upset again, his Grief strong and his Fear sour. Adrian does not understand why Blake would be feeling the latter emotion at all and thinks he is missing something, here.

Richards also seems to be missing something. He is actively thoughtful, quiet from some Internal analysis that temporarily blunts the storm of Human emotions. 

Even so, he recognises Adrian's signal for what it is. "That would be much appreciated," he says, clipped.

After locating and reporting that information -- the Impostor's station of origin is registered as something in another quadrant of space entirely -- Richards and Blake leave, Richards once again thanking Adrian for his time in Polite Human fashion. Outside, Blake's voice rises sharply and is just as quickly hushed.

Adrian finds the whole thing just the slightest bit unsettling. There is something about how much interest these Humans have shown in this Impostor that makes him uneasy . . .

. . . but no. This is just Human Behavior. He and Edmund have seen it time and time again, how Humans arbitrarily form bonds with Virtually Anything, living or not. If the Impostor has spent enough time with them, this Clannish attachment is only to be expected from the Humans. 

The issue is settled for the moment. Adrian's Deception is not likely to be revealed: he doubts they will Choose to pursue the body all the way to the named station of origin. It is very far from here. 

That is enough for Adrian to feel free to dismiss the matter for now. He has more pressing concerns to deal with, anyway, and turns back to reviewing the seismic report without another thought given towards the Humans' request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upping chapter count because next chapter is NOT going to be the last chapter, that's for certain! ;) ;) ;)
> 
> Love to you all for your wonderful comments and readership <3 <3 <3 TheLoneLamp, bexinthesky, MagicalTear, writeyourownstory, and Xena -- you continue to make my day! xoxox


	5. Revival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tags update to include violence/torture (sort of) and also WHUMP!

_Pain._

Feeling Returns, leeching In. He Feels Flat.

Inhale -- Expansion of Chest. _(Pain.)_ Open Senses. Brightness _(pain)_ \-- blink. Chill. Dry -- rasping breath. _Pain._

Voices. Familiar? Voices -- and it is cold--

Volume rises. _(It Hurts.)_ Movement -- not his. Someone Says, _Emergency Protocol 3.5._

Emergency Protocol 3.5. _This is Revival._ Sluggishly, he Pulls. Reshape, Reshape, Reshape--

 _Use Genetic Memory as a guide,_ the Voice says. _The same form, but Smaller._

That makes sense. He can Sense that he Does Not Have Much Mass. What he Has Remembers Its Shape when it Had More and The Shape Remembers its Past.

It Hurts again. This is ten times Brighter, Fiercer, Sharper -- It is Fire and Dying and Being Born, like a star. He thinks he heard that once.

 _Yes,_ Someone says. _Just like that._

The world Stills as it Settles, abruptly. His the Eyes work and the body Blinks, light Still bright but Getting so Less. The Pain is gone. He buzzes with Excess energy from Reshaping.

"Here," says Commander Mackenzie coolly, expression neutral. He holds out a bulbous bottle with a long neck. It is one of the planet beverages from the Cafeteria. "This will help."

Tiredness -- wandering the halls, Alone -- falling in the Greenhouse. Reshaping. Schofield launches himself at Mackenzie even as his Training of _comply_ clashes with his Memories of His Humans. Schofield knows why he had to Reshape and Mackenzie, who hasn't got the least bit of emotion in him, is clearly culpable. He means Schofield nothing good.

Mackenzie hardly moves. He catches Schofield's arm easily -- too easily -- and uses Schofield's momentum against him. Schofield slams into the wall immediately behind the other Impostor. His head collides with it first and something crunches in his face, but he twists his way back up, quick -- he has to be quick -- and throws himself forward again; and the angle is wrong, or _something_ is wrong, because Mackenzie is much, much taller--

This time the Impostor knocks him flat on his back with a sharp blow to Schofield's throat. His head hits the floor and everything dims for a moment while he hears Ringing and struggles to breathe. 

When his vision clears, Mackenzie is standing over -- _on_ him; he has one foot planted firmly on Schofield's chest. Schofield does not hear so much as feel his bones as they creak from the strain. "Keep struggling and I'll put it right through," the Impostor warns him softly. "We can wait for you to Revive again."

Schofield coughs, trying to fight the Disorientation of a Changed Physical Perspective as warmth fills his nose and slides down his throat. He used to be roughly the same height as this Impostor -- broader, too, in the shoulders -- but now he feels how Mackenzie's boot nearly spans his Torso. Schofield cannot estimate right now exactly how much Mass he has lost, but he is willing to bet it was A Lot. It means he cannot compete with Mackenzie. --Not right at the moment, anyway.

"Okay," he croaks, conceding, with a voice that he does not recognise.

Mackenzie waits another moment, clearly giving Schofield the option to strike again. When Schofield stays quiet instead, choking a little on the trickle of blood, the Impostor nods once. He steps back smoothly. 

Before Schofield can take advantage of this, he finds hands hooking beneath his arms and hauling him up. He scrambles to get his feet under him and does not succeed by the time he is forcibly seated in a chair of some sort. He starts to struggle again when he feels a restraint looped around one arm, but all this succeeds in doing is prompting Mackenzie to hit him hard enough that Schofield is momentarily stunned.

The chair is too big for him -- his feet do not touch the floor. The seat is cold. The chill sinks into his skin rapidly and Schofield realises he is not wearing a Suit or any other Human personal coverings -- logical, he supposes, if he has Reshaped to be a Smaller Human. He looks down at his Bare Human shape and sees it is Very little: his legs are maybe as thick as his Adult arms used to be and there are Inches of space on either side of his hips relative to the seat Area. 

Red marks are visible on his skin, mostly on his chest. His chest hurts in General, but there is also a sharp Pain in one side. His Nose aches Fiercely. It is all bright and shivery and he has to blink away Water that is flooding his eyes. There is something about All of This being Exposed that makes him feel upset. 

The bottle Reappears in Front of him. "Open up," Mackenzie says, sounding almost bored. "It will help stave off the energy loss from Reshaping." 

Schofield cannot fathom the reason for the offer. They have Caught him. The Host does not Need him to be in Good Condition to Pry his knowledge out of him and Schofield is Bewildered that their psychics are not already At Work. --Does he even need to be Conscious?

"Open your mouth," Mackenzie says. There is a muscle tic in his jaw. 

Schofield stares, paralyzed. He does not want to drink it -- he can't bring himself to do so now that the thought it is a Sedative has occurred to him. They wouldn't need him to drink his own sedative, of course, The Host would just Inject him--

Mackenzie pinches Schofield's nose shut, making Schofield yelp at the sudden, throbbing pain. The bottle is jammed in his mouth and now it is worse because he can't breathe, if he breathes now he will inhale liquid, so after he chokes on it a little he swallows and swallows because Mackenzie does not let up until he has tipped the entire contents of the bottle down Schofield's throat. 

Schofield gasps for breath when it is over, feeling that obnoxious hot Itch of Human Crying building behind his Eyes while his head spins, dizzy from the loss of air. He can't tell if the beverage has actually done anything. Still, he is not falling asleep, so that . . . that has to be worth something, right?

"You haven't been Human very long, have you?" Mackenzie observes.

Schofield does not look at him. If he does, he thinks This Body will start to Cry. He looks around them instead. 

Behind Mackenzie, Schofield can see now that they are in a tiny room, cramped, smaller than anywhere he has seen on MIRA (are they still on MIRA?); windowless. Two vent grates are in the walls but there are no other openings. He immediately realises that this is not one of The Host's Facilities. 

Still, This Impostor has him Trapped. Schofield feels how his arms are tied together Behind the back of the chair and his ankles to the legs of it -- and then pushes the Fear that threatens to swamp him Away. It takes a moment.

"What do you want?" Schofield asks when he thinks he can Look up without being Too emotional.

"Information," Mackenzie says laconically. "Let's start with an easy one: what is your current mission with regards to MIRA HQ?"

Schofield . . . stares. 

"I don't understand," he says, unsurprised when that earns him a Slap.

"The Host sent you here," Mackenzie says as though Schofield is being deliberately slow. Schofield feels his Skin creep at the Implacable Hate that is Conveyed through the Impostor's Human expression. "You are going to tell me why."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued! School is starting up for me on, like, Monday, so I'm going to try to get another chapter out by then, but I'll be honest: I have no idea how impacted updates will be. It shouldn't be too much but they decided to switch up our schedule, so . . .
> 
> Anyway -- love to you all! Thank you for taking the time to read you fabulous Crew and Impostors, you <3


	6. Interrogation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: torture! Not always explicit but explicit enough, I should think.

_The Host. He thinks I am from The Host._

"The Host did not send me here," Schofield says. He licks his lip and winces as he Tastes blood. "I do not have a mission."

Mackenzie sneers. "Spare me. The Host don't send Impostors out on holiday."

"Is that what you're on? A holiday?" Schofield snaps back. He winces despite himself when Mackenzie raises his hand again. Schofield is used to pain but that does not mean he Likes it; and it seems this Smaller Human form is Frailer, too. The blows are making the Room spin.

"What is your mission on MIRA?" Mackenzie repeats.

Feeling woozy, Schofield thinks that This is not something The Host does. Evaluators notwithstanding, The Host does not bother to Train Impostors by having Other Impostors Capture and Interrogate them -- certainly not so Blatantly. Perhaps if they were both in another Species's Shape, this would be More Convincing, but as it stands it is glaringly obvious What they Both Are. Moreover, Why would Other Impostors want to Know what The Host is Doing?

"I don't have one," Schofield says again. Seeing Mackenzie's stance shifting, setting his weight for something heavier, he hastens to add, "I was not sent to MIRA by anyone. I came of my own accord."

"Really?" Mackenzie says neutrally. "So this is what, a stop on the way, to . . . ?"

"Not a mission," Schofield says. He tries to swallow the Gunk in his mouth, but cannot manage it All and has to Spit most of it Out. More lost Mass -- wonderful. When his mouth is clear he takes a deep breath and decides to take a risk along with it. "I left. --The Host; I left The Host."

It is surprising how Saying that affects him. It is like there is a Great Weight off his Frame, and Schofield realises he has never stated this out loud. He also feels the Urge to vomit.

\--which he does only a moment later. Schofield wheezes, then coughs, doubling over; Mackenzie has hit him in the stomach this time and it drives All the air out of Him along with the contents of his stomach. Most of that Beverage winds up as an acidic mess in his own lap. He feels Disgusting and a Sense of shame that is not familiar to him.

There is a soft click as he is Busy with sorting through these Feelings. When he is Not overcome by Bodily reactions, Schofield sees that there is another person in the room: Hepburn, the man -- Impostor, actually, just like Mackenzie; he has no emotion in him -- who is in charge of Personnel here at MIRA HQ. 

"Why don't you repeat that for him?" Mackenzie says to Schofield, indicating Hepburn with a gesture.

Hepburn has the Same expression of polite Interest that he had when Schofield saw him in the office after their shuttle arrived at HQ. There is a cooler note to his eyes now as he looks at Schofield. It is a look of Dislike.

"Are you going to punch me in the stomach again?" Schofield asks, flicking his eyes between them.

"He certainly will if you don't comply," Hepburn says crisply.

Schofield is finding more and more that he does not like his chances. Neither of them are friendly; his Attempts at being truthful are seemingly serving only to provoke Greater Hostility. He is not sure What he is doing wrong and that -- that is panic Rising up the back of his throat, not bile.

Still, there is not much Else he can do at this Moment. "I was saying," he grinds out, steeling himself for another hit, "that I am not here on a mission. The Host did not send me. I'm a -- I am a Defector; I do not want to go back." (And while it is easier to admit a second time, it still isn't _pleasant.)_

(Frantically, he thinks: another Reshaping on a large scale? No. Manipulating the Entirety of his Mass into a New Shape -- that is impossible right now. He is Still too weak and he Cannot do Another Reshaping like that for a while. Perhaps something smaller? --But he would need several minutes even for something minor, and it would be fairly obvious . . .)

Hepburn tilts his head, slowly. It is a gesture of curiosity that Schofield finds endearing in Humans; it is annoying to See it being used now by this other Impostor. He Exchanges a look with Mackenzie that Schofield Cannot interpret. "Why did you leave The Host?" Hepburn asks as though he is Enquiring about the Weather, but with a Subtle emphasis adding weight to the _why_ of the question.

"Because--" Schofield says automatically and then freezes for A moment. He is not sure he wants to talk about Joe and Tom and Ben. He finds he Does Not trust these two, even if they are Also Not With The Host. "--I like Humans," he manages to say Instead, hoping his pause is not noticeable. "I -- I don't want to--" _hurt them_ is a Possibility but probably unbelievable; _deceive them_ is even less plausible. They would never believe him. He opts not to offer justification and settles for repeating, "I like Humans."

Mackenzie's eyes are Cruelly sharp as he watches Schofield. Schofield resists The urge to squirm and Hates how much this Smaller form shrinks on Instinct. "Perhaps those three he came with," Mackenzie says to Hepburn without turning to look at him. "McCrory's nephews and Richards."

Schofield does not say anything and he thinks his face is blank enough that his expression does not give any of his fear Away. Even so, Hepburn nods, making a humming sound. "That's in line with their records," he remarks. "They had a period of service on the _Skeld."_

"We met there," Schofield says coolly, though his heart is beating so hard it Hurts the ribs that Mackenzie has Cracked. "They were kind."

In a certain sense, Hepburn and Mackenzie are also kind. They do not believe him, but, though they question him further (and vigorously so), they do not do anything that Causes much more Depletion of Mass. Bruises are not ideal, nor tears, nor broken bones, but with no skin split Schofield's Mass is not lost to him at the same Volume.

They are, however, much more expert at a Human's sensitivity. Schofield's Shape cannot withstand their concerted efforts and it is not Long before the Crying has made a Reappearance. Worse, with How his Mind is tied to the Receptors and Emotional Input, the sense of being Horribly Alone is magnified. 

\--Nevertheless, Schofield holds Firm. (As Firm as he can.) He does Not say any more than What he has already told them. Probably he should be more clever about this, but -- to his shame -- he loses much of his Higher Functions trying to Compartmentalise the Physical sensations. Most Impostor Training does not utilise Shapes such as the Human one, which is best suited for differentiating between things with its Finer sensitivity; Schofield was not Trained in compartmentalising Pain to this degree.

Although he hears it, Schofield does not comprehend it When Hepburn says, "Ten to one you're right; he's not budging on anything about them."

"Of course I'm right, who else would it be?" Mackenzie replies. "D'you think they know?"

This, Schofield _does_ comprehend. There Is a noise he makes. It is inadvertent and he would regret it more if they did not choose that moment to break another of Schofield's fingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TOLD YA I'd get this out by Monday~ I know the date says Tuesday but it's not quite 11 pm here, SO. Anyway, yeeting this here and then going to bed bc I still have to plan for tomorrow. (It's the first day back with students 🙃)


	7. Abscond

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY HECK, SO MANY COMMENTS alskdjaklsdladl I'm updating this right before class BUT I WILL REPLY TO THEM ALL <3 <3 <3

Awareness Filters through, but vaguely. Everything Throbs. That is Warning Enough: Schofield keeps his breathing as even as he thinks it was while he was unconscious and hangs where he sits. If He Does It Right, He Will Receive a Reward.

. . . because They track That sort of Thing. He has -- he has -- Monitors? They Know . . . and the Longer He Goes Undetected By Visible Signs, the Greater--

_ \--I left The Host. I  _ left.

Things are Remembered. This is not a test, nor is it training; there is No Reward. Other Impostors, Impostors Hostile to him and Uncaring about his Survival are In Charge. Actual Existence is At Stake.

Schofield does not open his eyes. He doubts it will deceive anyone for long, but it buys him time to think as he Assesses his Condition. 

His hands are tied together behind the chair, arms stretched rather painfully around the Adult-sized seat back. His wrists meet but he can feel the tension in the material of the binding, hanging limply as he is; if he can feel tension in it, it is not cable. If it is not cable, it can be cut.

Somehow. 

There are voices, very quiet. Schofield continues to subtly gauge the material (test the tension holding his hands together, do it quietly, hope to avoid notice) while he listens. Their voices are not Easy to Hear, but he catches a Phrase or two:

". . . we can seek corroboration from . . ."

". . . it even worth it?"

"We're not looking for trouble . . ."

". . . can't, not looking like that." (Schofield senses this is About Him and so he stays limp and barely dares to breathe.)

"No, of course not." 

There is a soft click and the voices fall silent. Schofield has heard that snick before; that is the door To This secret compartment. He waits for a long minute and listens with all of his focus, but no: there is no one breathing in this room. 

Schofield does not wait to use his eyes. He forces himself to Reshape now, fast.

He cannot Reshape in any great capacity. Schofield hasn't any reserves, not so soon after the last, but he can do something small -- and the  _ ssąszłyk _ race thirty-seven galaxies out from this one are notorious in that quadrant for having the sharpest digital appendages. So far as Schofield is aware, they have the sharpest digital appendages in the known universe. Something about synthesis of keratin and titanium. 

\--And that is not useful to think about. The pain of Reshaping the most-broken finger on his left hand into a  _ ssąszłykd _ talon is surprisingly less awful than the pain of having them broken in the first place. It is probably the sharp relief as everything snaps into place--

(Schofield sags. He is now truly and utterly exhausted. He will need to eat a very large meal and have a great deal of rest before he can Even Think of Reshaping, or Else Risk Dire Consequences.)

\--Anyway. He pushes those thoughts away and flexes his new talon until it catches at the restraints around his wrists and  _ hopes. _ He tugs experimentally. The material that caught the claw resists for a heartbreaking moment before it gives, just a little. Schofield does not wait for anything more -- he repeats the gesture ruthlessly, feeling the restraints part a bit more each time. The pain of skin being sliced hardly registers and certainly does not merit much thought beyond a detached consideration to avoid the cluster of veins close to the carpals because Schofield has no doubt that the other Impostors will come back soon. Already he has been alone for almost three minutes. 

The restraints snap apart. Schofield has to bite his already-bitten tongue to keep from screaming: his hands are mangled and the sudden release of this Body's circulation system comes with a sudden and mind-numbing new wave of Overwhelming Negative Sensations via the nervous system. Awkwardly he bends -- he gasps and has to stop, several times -- to get at the ones around his ankles. 

Schofield slides off the chair and staggers Upright. He Takes A Moment to breathe and keep from Fainting; then he takes another moment to do his best to Compartmentalise all the Physical sensations. Time is pressing. 

The vent covers are unsecured. Opening them is no Great hardship. He slips in and finds it wonderfully roomy, far roomier than he would have expected: he can hurry forward in a bit of a crouch instead of having to crawl. Schofield does so, drawing on Vague Memories of the Layout of MIRA's Headquarters. He has to assume he has no time at all left and, moreover, that he will not hear them come for him when they discover his absence. He is absolutely certain that they are Also Defectors.

\--Who else would care so much about him? It lingers in His mind as he hobbles along, doing his best to sense A sympathetic Human while he goes. These two have been here for a long time, long enough to have accrued a Degree of Authority as Humans; they have certainly had the time and Capacity to create that Little Compartment they were interrogating him in. Impostors are never given such Long-Term assignments. Too long in One Shape makes one Inflexible and Useless (or so he was told; he starts to wonder, now). 

More to the point, Impostors would not Interrogate him for information about The Host. It is not an Impostor's place to question The Will of The Host, even less to Question at All. These two are No Longer doing The Host's bidding.

\--There is a warmth just on the edges of his perception and it distracts him from these Calculations. It Is A Human, a familiar Human mind, healthy -- but feeling Tired and Sad. It is . . . just . . . a few more yards, he thinks--

A thunk echoes through the vents, coming from behind him. Schofield feels his Whole Body Jump and his Heart Kick, suddenly Terrified. He seizes at the grate right above him, shoves it open, and scrambles Through it without a second thought for the noise He Makes nor for anyone who might Be around.

He is Dazzled. The light of the corridor is brilliant and bright, as bright as the planet's natural daylight -- but this is not the Skywalk. This is the corridor outside the Bunks. It is empty.

Schofield kicks the grate shut and skitters down the chilly hall. He could Cry with relief when the Familiar Mind is right behind Joe and Tom's door, but he does not have the time. He punches in the lock-code as swiftly as he can and squeaks through the door as soon as the lock clicks free. Once Inside, he shuts it fast and leans against it as  _ surprise/ **shock/**_ **fear** blasts through him, which is awful enough that Schofield cannot keep the yelp from crawling out of his throat. 

His legs decide to stop working and he slides to the floor, Arms over his Head (his hands hurt, they hurt so much). Behind him is Joe, drawn back, half-dressed; his hand is raised, he has something in it, and then-- and then--

"Scho?"

Schofield shakes. He is bizarrely convinced Joe is going to strike him, too, given how Joe's expression twists, but Joe kneels instead and reaches out slowly. "What the actual fuck," Joe breathes, face Pale. His fingertips brush Schofield's cheek and his  **_wonder/horror/relief_ ** is overwhelming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOVE TO ALL OF YOU! Shoutout to my best beloveds @Pavuvu, @writeyourownstory, @bexinthesky, @yonderlight, @scientistsinistral; I love you all dearly <3 <3 <3 ALSO soooo much LOVE to @MagicalTear, @TheLoneLamp, @yrelec, and BBQ_Bandit (what a fantastic name!) for your comments here or elsewhere that MAKE MY EFFING DAY omggg <3 <3 <3
> 
> Next chapter is coming up SOON. Chapter count upped to 9 but might be more. --I know these are all so much shorter than my usual reams of prose, but something about writing these little chunks just keeps the flow going~


	8. Joe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's where we earn our HURT/COMFORT ayyyyyyyyyy~

Joe is frozen for a moment like this and the Feelings cycle in a Jumble of which Schofield can make little sense. Schofield cannot move further back -- he is already pressed up against the door, waiting for the next blow to Fall. The Emotions are A Lot-- 

Joe snatches his hand away, guilty. "Hey," he says, tone soothing. As Joe continues, his voice softens and falls into a particular cadence that sounds practiced and familiar. "Hey -- hey there, Scho. Where've you been?"

"Impostors," Schofield replies, struggling to String words Together. Joe's Voice is Discordant combined with His Feelings, which are Sharp and Confused even without the Skin contact that Amplifies them. It is Jarring; Strange. On the one hand, Schofield wants to shrink and shrink until he disappears entirely, Sensing Joe's emotions. On the other, Schofield cannot bring himself to do more than Stay Still and Wait, scarcely Daring to breathe. "Mackenzie -- Hepburn."

Joe hovers, Gaze sharp. "What happened?" he asks Schofield, voice Still soothing even as he looks Grimly at Schofield's face and then Ill at Schofield's hands. "Did they do this?" 

Schofield does not have any more Words in him. He nods. He tries to Breathe Regularly, and fails, and starts to Shrink for real.

Joe makes an inarticulate noise and Gropes to the side. He Finds a Giant Shirt with No buttons that he rolls up until it is a sort of Rope, centered around the Collar. "They aren't here," Joe tells him, continuing to Speak Soothingly as he fits this over Schofield's head. "And the door is locked, see? They can't get in here right now." 

When there is no Pain from the shirt around his Neck, Schofield relaxes enough to let Joe unroll the Whole Thing. The Shirt drapes over him, Massively oversized.

Schofield does not understand what happens next. He managed to keep his Head through -- through -- through a Great period of Time where, Objectively, he was both in Greater danger and under greater Duress. With how Joe's Voice gets like This, though, something in Schofield's heart (Emotional, not physical) Cracks All The Way open; feeling the Softness and Weight of the shirt settle on him, Schofield's Throat closes. 

Schofield _really_ hates the Inconvenient Human Crying. As Small as he is, now, his Whole Body is Wracked with Shuddering that is stronger, seemingly, than Anything he has ever experienced. He does not Even have the necessary Water molecules to his Mass to expend -- the whole time is just Horrible gasping that sounds distressingly like the gurgling he associates With severed vocal cords. He makes a mess out of The shirt Joe wraps him in and cannot form a Single Coherent Word throughout the Whole affair.

"Hey, you're safe," Joe tells him, and "you'll be okay" and "easy -- easy there," most of which are not particularly Well-Supported by Evidence, but which are Comforting anyway. The last is spoken as Schofield discovers that one benefit of This size is that he now Fits in Joe's lap: Joe's Hugs are Vast and Enveloping. Joe is very careful to Avoid sore Spots, of which Schofield has Many, and Helps make the Shaking feel Less Violent. 

Little by Little, the Pressure from inside eases. By the End of it, there is a Moment where quiet settles in the room after Schofield's Sobs end and his Breathing finally Evens. Schofield feels a Degree of numbness to everything and Like his Head is Full Of Cloth.

"You're in pretty rough shape," Joe tells him finally. At his Words, the numbness subsides a little -- or maybe Schofield is just reminded that He Is Injured. Still, Joe is warm and his Heartbeat is Steady; it is enough to Make it Easy to ignore the Banked Fire of Everything that Is Damaged. "Is it-- can you-- you fixed it, last time--"

"Can't Reshape yet," Schofield answers, muzzily. It should be more upsetting but he is Simply Too Tired and this is the Most Comfortable he has been in forever. "Did it too much already."

Joe struggles with that, seeming Dismayed. "Then you need some water, at least," he says, and starts to move, gently lifting Schofield out of his lap. 

Joe's Feelings of stress manage to Wake Schofield a little and being dislodged does even more. No longer comfortable, Schofield remembers that He is Not Free from Hepburn and Mackenzie -- yet. 

"They'll know I'm here," he says to Joe and Prods at his Own Thoughts for a plan. It is Difficult; his breath is coming short again and his Head feels Thick. "There's nowhere else for me to go . . ."

"Drink some of this, first," Joe says. He starts to hand Schofield a bottle of water before grimacing and holding it up as though to pour it into Schofield's mouth. 

Schofield jerks back So hard his sides start Screaming. Joe freezes where he is and does not move.

"Just -- let me hold it," Schofield croaks when he Can speak again. "I'll manage."

Silently, Joe hands him the bottle. It takes some doing, but Schofield manages to grip it between his palms and, while lifting his arms Does Nothing for his ribs, he is able to drink about half of what is there Under his own Power.

When he cannot manage to Drink any more water, Schofield sees that Joe has Pulled out his Mobile device and is staring at it. Schofield can Sense the Focus in him. 

Schofield does not understand. It is a personal device that can be used for Nearly-Instantaneous oral communication and can also be used to Transmit Written messages when on a Planet, accessing a Planetary network, but MIRA HQ is too far from the planet below to make use of that. 

Still, Joe hits Some Buttons and holds it up to his ear. "Ben?" he says after a moment. "Are you and Tom -- yeah. Can you do me a favor? Can you and Tom get Mackenzie and Hepburn's attention and keep them both occupied for a few minutes?"

He turns and sees Schofield is finished with the Water. He takes the bottle from Schofield with a nod and recloses it as Ben presumably answers on the other end. Schofield cannot hear what Ben says to Joe, but Joe Makes an impatient noise and says, "I don't care how -- just keep them both in the office, or something. And send me a message once you get their attention -- I need five minutes. --Okay."

The connection is ended. Joe sets the Mobile on the floor and sits next to Schofield again. 

"You have a plan," Schofield guesses -- hopes, honestly. He cannot seem to come up with anything himself; and he is so tired . . .

"I have a plan," Joe says easily. He tugs a little at the hem of the shirt on Schofield and adds, "Let me clean you up just a little, okay? Just your face. That can't be comfortable."

Joe dampens a cloth and gently dabs it on Schofield's face -- washing away a little of the Various Fluids that have been Extruded, doubtless -- as he explains. Schofield endures this without complaint, feeling More and More Lethargic. He is struggling to keep his eyes open by the time the Mobile face lights up. 

Joe glances at it and nods. "Are you ready?" he asks Schofield. 

Schofield nods back. "I'm ready," he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Man I just love Joe._ #sorrynotsorry 
> 
> \--You know what? Ignore my attempts at estimating chapters. Just . . . I'll tell you when it is the penultimate chapter for realsies.


	9. Plans

Joe's plan is relatively simple: Schofield is going to Hide in Aunt Polly's room until he can Reshape and Fix the damage. 

Joe assures Schofield his being an Impostor will not be A Problem once Joe explains Everything, because "That's what family is for." Schofield is not sure how Family comes into it, but Joe just shakes his Head and is Assured and so Schofield lets it go.

Really, the trickiest bit is going to be in getting to the long-term Residences. These are rooms that are for Individuals, specifically those who are stationed on MIRA in more Permanent positions, like Aunt Polly. They do not have a Designated corridor around which they are clustered -- they are scattered throughout MIRA. The one they want is the level below the Medbay, near the Reactor and the Lab, and that means they need to Loop through the Skywalk. 

They walk down the corridor a moment later. Well, Joe walks -- Schofield is carried, pretending to be a Heap of tangled Laundry. It is not Hard to mimic this: Schofield curls up as small as he can and Joe Wraps him in one of the Blankets. He carries Schofield like this with his and Tom's towels tucked Haphazardly on top. 

Joe moves quickly enough. He Gives the impression he is Going Somewhere and so Schofield guesses there is little cause for alarm from the others. Frankly, one or two Humans are passed as they go, but apart from a moment of muted surprise, no one seems to notice. Schofield finds the blanket is Airless and overly warm, but his mind is still Feeling sluggish and so it is difficult to gather the energy to Panic. 

They come to a stop after a minute or so. Joe knocks on Aunt Polly's door and waits. Now that he is Not Walking, Schofield senses Joe's Anxiousness ticking up; nervousness that they will Be Spotted, he assumes.

The door slides open. Aunt Polly has been Woken Up; she Feels Sleepy. She is Confused that Joe is standing there. "Joe?" she asks, and then her Sleepiness feels a little Irritated--

"May I come in, Auntie?" Joe asks, but he is already moving forward before she can agree. 

This alarms her. "Joseph Blake, what are you--"

Schofield feels a jolt as Joe bumps against the wall with his hip and hears the door slide shut. "Right, Auntie," Joe says firmly. "We need your help."

Aunt Polly is Intrigued as Joe slowly lowers Schofield to the floor. Schofield tries not to think about how his Skin prickles at the thought of Being Revealed and lets Joe unwrap him. 

The light is bright again, Painful on his Eyes as he is Exposed. Before he can Flinch too obviously, Joe's hand Settles warm on his neck and **_calm/safe_ ** comes through clearly enough to blunt Most of the tension as Schofield sits up.

Aunt Polly is startled, then horrified. "Who did _this?"_ she demands. Her fingers are gentle on his chin when they tip Schofield's head up -- he forces himself to stay still. "To a _child?_ Joseph--"

"Not a child," Joe says as soon as she stops, Words failing her when **_recognition_ ** blasts through her. "This is our friend Scho . . ."

Schofield tries to look as Small and Nonthreatening as he can. He also tries not to edge backward into Joe too obviously, but he cannot help pressing against Joe's hand, needing the reassurance in the Face of Aunt Polly's Sudden Apprehension and Fear. 

"He saved us at our last posting," Joe is saying very quickly. As he talks, he tugs the Blanket free and wraps it around Schofield's Shoulders. Schofield grasps at it and bites his Tongue on a noise when he remembers that his Fingers are not happy about That -- he has to settle for using one wrist to help hold it in place, Fingers curled so that no Pressure is on them. Still, the additional layer is Very Welcome. "It's a long story, but he's not a threat. He's coming with us to Polus."

Aunt Polly is Frowning. She is Thinking many things and feels a Great Deal as a result. Schofield sits very still and does his best not to react as she Cycles through _uncertainty/interest_ and the occasional flash of _wonder_ for several long moments.

Finally, he senses her decisiveness. Aunt Polly nods to them both, gaze lingering on Schofield. She is not totally convinced, but she is sympathetic and so she is Willing to listen for now. "You look injured," she says slowly to Schofield, her eyes flicking between the Face and the hand. "May I see?"

"Misaligned cartilage in the face," Schofield says to her, hoping not to do that. He does not want to take off Joe's Shirt. "Several fractured phalanxes in both hands. Suspected rib fracture. Multiple contusions."

Joe rubs his Thumb soothingly under Schofield's ear even though he is **_sickened/worried_ ** at the Recital. Schofield has to swallow when his Stomach rolls. "We should let her take a look," Joe tells him. "She does a lot of the doctoring, here."

Aunt Polly becomes Grim and indignant when Joe helps Schofield with the blanket and the shirt. She does not touch him, which makes things easier, but she is Equally sickened by the red and black Marks that mottle his skin and Disquieted by his bare state.

"He can fix it, but he needs some rest," Joe tells Aunt Polly when she becomes distressed and says that there is Little she can do without Access to the Medbay. Joe is a little disappointed by this, but he is effective at stuffing his Emotions down. After helping Schofield back into the shirt and the blanket, His Calm does wonders to reassure Schofield. "It's known he came with us, though -- he can't stay in our rooms and expect to stay hidden."

Aunt Polly nods. She is thinking again. "Are you in any pain?" Aunt Polly asks Schofield, first.

"Manageable," Schofield replies, blinking. He can feel the ache but it is hard to concentrate on it when he just wants to Lie Down.

"That means yes," Joe says. "Can we give him something?"

Aunt Polly does have something: a little bottle of chalky white tablets. Joe argues in whispers with Schofield until Schofield is too tired to protest any more and agrees to take one. He swallows it carefully. 

"Not so bad, see?" Joe asks.

Schofield shakes his head. Of course, it has not taken effect, yet. 

There is a short argument about what should happen next. Aunt Polly thinks that Schofield should take the bed, which is small and sized for one Adult Human. Schofield and Joe both contend that she should go back to sleep (they are interrupting her rest cycle). In the end she agrees that she will finish her Rest Cycle so long as Joe stays to Watch Schofield. Schofield, desperately exhausted now that everything seems settled but still too Nervous from being in this new space, crawls into Joe's lap again. He thinks that if he can spend some more Time in one of Joe's Hugs, he might feel Calm enough to try to sleep even in this Unfamiliar environment.

At some point the tablet's effects set in and numb the ache. Schofield wakes up briefly when he is carried to the Bed and laid out, but no one Unwraps the blanket and this new position is not Painful. 

"You can't stay here all day," Aunt Polly murmurs from somewhere.

"I'm not. Tom or Ben will come next." There is a rustle and the sound of buttons being pressed on the mobile device.

"Joseph! You did _not."_

Schofield stirs at the raised volume. A hand smoothes over his forehead and **_sleepy/calm_ ** stills him again.

"Not me, Tom. He patched it through HQ's local network," he hears Joe say in a low voice. "The one maintained by the Facility. --Yeah, I know it's illegal, but does he listen to me?"

"More than you like to admit," Aunt Polly replies, quieter. Joe huffs.

For once, Schofield is not disturbed by nightmares. Maybe his Body acknowledges that he Needs the sleep too much to Risk it. Either way, it is actually the Tablet wearing off and the aching Sharply returning that causes him to blink awake the second time.

The room is dim. Tom sits on the edge of the bed, fiddling with some wires -- not fixing anything, just twisting them together over and over. He jumps when Schofield moves. "You're awake!" Tom says, beaming. He leans down and squeezes Schofield's head in a sort of Hug that makes it pound, briefly. "Oh, sorry -- thought that would be the least painful place, sorry . . ."

"It's okay," Schofield croaks. His throat is dry; he needs water. "Hi, Tom."

Tom helps him where Schofield is struggling with the blanket and helps him sit up. "Here," Tom says, and reaches down to the floor on his side. He produces a bottle of water and a container of some sort. "Joe said you had trouble holding things, so I got you some soup. You can just drink it."

Tom fills him in as Schofield consumes the Food. It has been several hours and it is well into his and Ben's and Joe's rest period. Mackenzie and Hepburn have been everywhere. Aunt Polly will return in another hour. Joe and Ben are concerned because Talking to Mackenzie and Hepburn will Show their Hand, but they cannot See how to Reveal the two are Impostors without revealing Schofield's own part in it and casting Ben, Joe, and Tom in a Treacherous Light.

Schofield nods. He expected nothing less. Mackenzie and Hepburn are too well-ensconced here on MIRA HQ to confront in such a way. --And anyway, Schofield is not sure that it would be worth it. 

"They like Humans," he says to Tom, trying to Articulate his thoughts. "They Defected, like me. They thought I was there to spy on them and Retrieve them."

"That's not an excuse for what they did," Tom argues, Upset. "Or what they _will_ do, if they catch you again."

Schofield shivers. He does not want to be Recaptured. He could try hiding, but he can't stay in This Room all the time and neither Tom and Joe's room nor Ben's room are Safe. The vents are Definitely Not Safe, not if they are Connected to that Compartment. It would be easiest if he could just Disappear . . .

. . . or hide in Plain Sight. Schofield feels an electric Tingle go through him and his skin Prickles. He remembers Whispering green and the smell of Life. 

"I think I know what to do," he says to Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--and now to spend the rest of the day planning this week's worth of classes :P Thank you for tuning in and reading! The next chapter will probably be up on Wednesday or Thursday c:
> 
> SO much love to @yrelec, @writeyourownstory, @MagicalTear, @TheLoneLamp, @bexinthesky, @yonderlight, and @Xena1016! I cannot tell you how much your feedback and commentary means to me, you guys <3 <3 <3 It is worth the WORLD!


	10. In Memoriam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /shrieks **@[MagicalTear](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalTear/pseuds/MagicalTear) made the boys using a [picrew thing](https://picrew.me/image_maker/479995)!!!!** _Lookit them they are so CUTE!!!!!_
> 
>   
>   
>   
> 
> 
> ;;A;; _DARLING!_ THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!

Adrian wriggles through the vent and, silently, recites a list of Choice Epithets in every language he has ever learned. It is nominally his "Rest Period" but these days that just means "Sneaking Period."

Adrian did not always hate the necessity of deceit. It used to be Exciting. Back in his Earliest Years, there was something exhilarating about rearranging Things so as to Point to a Different Culprit or Twisting Words to best Entrap another using Banter Alone. As was any surviving Agent, he was very good at it. 

\--Is still good at it, though he thinks he has Rather gotten Out of Practice. Or maybe he has just Gained too much Mass in the intervening Years. Adrian does not think he has Reshaped at all in the last two -- there Has Not been the need for it. He has Gained Mass and it has been Distributed Naturally as this Body sees fit, and now he has a bit more bulk than he did when they first Came to MIRA. It makes traveling Through the vents more challenging.

At least, Adrian thinks as he follows the Warmth of this Human mind as its owner Wends through the Corridors, the Deceit he and Edmund practice now is not so . . . Dirty. Adrian used to Earn Praise for his Sensitivity in Understanding Other Species' Wants and Desires, and in Using that knowledge To His Advantage in engineering The Host's Ideal Outcome, but the process became tiresome and Sad. The number of Individuals to Whom Adrian presented himself as a Sympathetic Partner -- the Ways in which he Earned Trust -- Even an Intellectual Understanding is enough to Nurture Empathy, it turns out. (This Human body feels Shame even now at some of those Memories, an Unpleasant Experience particularly given that at this moment he is literally Creeping through the vents to surveil one of their own Employees.) 

Still, the point is, this has changed. They do Not work for The Host. With No Overlord to Obey, the deceit they practice is simply a matter of Governing this Headquarters correctly and ensuring it does Not fall into Disrepair. --Both the physical Facility and its Inhabitants. This is a Thriving Community, who Welcomed Edmund and Adrian and have Sheltered them in turn. It is vastly Better. It is Vastly better and it  _ deserves _ Better.

Adrian wedges himself into a comfortable position and waits. He is in the Vent beneath the Greenhouse, Near the Glassy curved Walls that provide so much Sun for the Garden. It is the Closest he can get.

"Hey, Scho," says the younger Blake, stopping by the Memorial for the Impostor. It is near a Planter that is closer to Adrian's position than not. "I miss having you around."

As the younger Blake continues to talk, Quietly telling some Story about his Brother having a Terrible Day, Adrian reflects that he feels Bad about this part. The youngest Blake does not Stomp around in a Perpetual Miasma of Anger and Sadness any longer, not since he and his brother erected this small Site in the room where the Impostor was found 'dead', but it has been replaced by a Wistfulness that Human Bodies are particularly excellent at Experiencing and it is enough to Provoke an echo in himself. It almost makes Adrian think of-- of--

_ Nevermind. _ Ruthlessly, Adrian reorders his Thoughts.

In the aftermath of the Impostor's escape, Adrian had thought it a Given that the Impostor would Return to the Humans whom he had claimed he Adopted. This has not Been the Case. No Amount of Searching of the Impostor's old Shared Quarters nor the Blakes' Quarters had turned up Any Clues about the Impostor's whereabouts. Even a Guilt-Inducing expedition to Stealthily Inspect McCrory's Quarters revealed Nothing. 

In the time since the Impostor's Escape, Edmund's Sensors have revealed No Activity in the Vents besides his own and Adrian's, and None of the sensors showed any signs of Tampering. (It is not Impossible that the Impostor could be creeping through them even now, but after Patrolling relentlessly for Two Weeks, Edmund has Ruled that out.) And he is Certainly not Hiding in some niche, somewhere; Edmund had Security do a Thorough Inspection, Ruthlessly scrutinizing every Corner on MIRA in the name of "Tightening" it. There were nearly a Dozen of the security forces who performed Exacting Investigations over the course of a Week and they found Nothing.

No, Adrian now suspects personally that the Impostor is not on MIRA any longer. Likely he escaped on the Shuttle, hiding amongst the Cargo. It is what Adrian would have done. (What he Did, several years Ago.)

This leaves the Humans with whom he arrived Alone. They have Accepted it, sure, but the Little memorial itself is proof that they have Not Forgotten. All three of them make Frequent visits, Each finding some Moment in their Spare Time to come every other Day or so. The younger Blake, for instance, is Supposed to be Watering, but he is clearly seizing the Opportunity that is presented to him now.

Adrian would be more Impressed with their Dedication were it not such a Terrible Reminder of how Deeply and Darkly Human Affection can turn. He knows they do Not know that the Impostor made a choice to Leave Them, but that is only a Mercy. 

(Adrian also knows that he and Edmund did not Exactly leave the Impostor any Choice, but Still. It just Seems a Waste.)

"Anyway," the younger Blake says, finishing his Story and interrupting Adrian's Musings, "I'll see if I can't come tomorrow, okay? I know Joe is going to visit, but he's always so depressing, I know you'll need cheering up." There is a rustle and footsteps; then the squeak and splash of a faucet being used and the sound of a container being filled.

Patiently, Adrian sits all through the next half hour as the younger Blake waters the plants, checks the nutrient lines to make sure they aren't clogged, and performs other menial tasks. He does not talk to the Memorial again, for which Adrian is grateful. These Humans are worth Leaving The Host for and it is a Shame that the Impostor did not Stay With Them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _One more chapter!_ And then who knows? --probably a week's worth of writing Something Else before I get bored and come back to this universe 😂
> 
> Love to everyone, you guys are all fabulous 💗 I hope your weeks are all off to a good start!


	11. (Photo)Synthesis

Being a Plant is not a Terrible way to spend time, Schofield reflects vaguely. He has lost track of Time's passage beyond the Sun Rising and Setting and very little Troubles him.

A while later, he considers this is perhaps because This Vine's metabolism is much, much slower. His Neurological Core is intact, safely Hidden Below, but it takes a lot of Energy to use it All The Time. So he doesn't.

Water has never tasted this good.

Sometimes there is Noise. He cannot Really hear it. He Feels it In him, though, and he Feels the Warm Things (hands?) that Touch his trunk and stroke his Foliage. They Feel many things that he Cannot Quite Grasp, not like this.

After another while, He becomes Accustomed to that. He Stops noticing it. Besides, he is Busy Growing.

Growing is Important. There is plenty of Sun and Lots of Room for his Roots; this soil is Rich. He threads through it with Deep satisfaction. 

Sun is Important. When it is Up, he is Warm. It Feels Good.

There is one night when Schofield decides that he does not Like it as much when the Sun is down. It is Not as Restful. 

It takes him a few more nights before he decides Why: He Grows when the Sun is Down and so he thinks he is More Aware when it is Down. Mostly he is more Aware of How it is Not As Warm. 

Several nights After that, he thinks that He does not like Cold. The Sun Goes Away and he waits for Cold.

. . . is it, though?

. . . the Sun is Gone but there is Warmth. There is a lot of it. There is Pressure on his Trunk. --Now that he notices it, there is Feeling, too. And Noise. He does Not Understand Why.

(Is this the signal?) 

(What Signal?)

. . . Something Digs _In His Roots!_

\--Alarm. Schofield shudders AWAKE, Neurological Core at Full awareness with Threat Approaching. He Struggles to comprehend the Sudden Onslaught of Sensory data. Coolness around Most of him, Warmth like Sun-Warmth on his Trunk near his Roots. Something Sifting through the ground, Dislodging his Roots, brushing against Roots that are Closer to his Core and--

\--oh. _That_ signal.

Schofield has limited movement like this, but he takes the time to Wrap a Tendril around one of the Hands before he Concentrates his Focus and Reshapes--

\-- _expected fire--_

\--Schofield sucks in a breath and Reinflates Human Lungs for the first time in-- in-- in a while. He coughs at the Unfamiliar sensation and Sways. Everything Moves Very Fast -- he tries to Reach out to Steady himself and Overbalances when his Human Arm flails.

Hands catch him, hands that Are **_excitement/wonder/welcome_ ** and Hold him Up, Firm. He remembers Eyes are a Thing and opens them, Squinting at Not-Sun. It is Bright and he Closes them Again.

Hands pat at Him. Noises accompany this. Noise . . . voice. Voices! 

"Scho!" says one, brightly. It is Happy.

"There you are," another says, Relieved. 

Schofield tries opening his Eyes and Blinks Rapidly when they Water. The Eyes are Human, which Is to Say, they See Much -- sometimes Too Much. The Sensitivity is Painful. He Resorts to Squinting as a third voice says, "Let's get him down and put some clothes on him, eh? We're still in the middle of the bloody Greenhouse."

 **_Glee/amusement/nerves_ ** are what help him Forward and into Thin Air. He Almost Falls but Lands on his Feet, bare against Cold flatness that Feels Slick, Balanced to standing by the Hands--

\--Joe and Tom's hands, he sees, Eyes clearing at Last. He squints at them again, anyway. They . . . seem different. 

Even so, his Stomach flips and he feels Lighter than Air at the sight of them. He Laughs at the Feeling and grasps for them. Tom Hugs him Enthusiastically, leaning back So Far that Schofield's feet leave the Floor and Schofield's newly-filled lungs Lose their contents. Joe's Hug is Less Frenetic but it is Big as Ever and, somehow, the Warmest Thing Schofield Remembers Feeling in a Long Time.

Ben is there too, clicking his tongue. He moves Fast -- or maybe Schofield is Slow -- and shakes out Something Blue. It is a Suit.

"This'll be too short," Ben says, sounding Annoyed though he feels like _relief_ as well. "You grew, it looks like."

"Not that much," Tom Argues, without any Real irritation. "He's still little."

Schofield loses his clumsiness as He Remembers how Human Shapes work. This Body is Not consistent with His Prior Experiences: he is both Smaller and Bigger than he remembers. Still, he does not Need so much help to pull on a Shirt and soft Shorts that are only a little tight. He is able to Put On the Rubberized body-suit without Any help at All.

"See?" Tom is saying now even as Schofield hunches a little to Ease the Strain he feels in some of the seams. "Look, it's fine."

"We'll get you one that fits better when we're off MIRA," Joe promises Schofield resignedly. "But here -- these were already big." 

The boots are Fine. They Fit well enough.

"Is it time to go?" Schofield asks. He cannot help but Stretch a little; Human Shapes are so _energetic._

"Absolutely," says Ben. "We're all set to go to Polus. The shuttle leaves in half an hour."

"C'mon, let's go," Tom says, impatient. He is Anticipating Something. "We've only another five minutes before those two are out of that meeting!"

"We know," Joe replies. To Schofield, he says, "Are you ready?"

Schofield is Awake. He is Not Damaged and his Humans are with him again. "Yes," he says, and feels a Wide Smile spread without even Having to Think about it. "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY~ Love to you all on this Inauguration Day!!! 
> 
> I'm brainstorming _another_ story idea, one that will see the return of Old and Lost friends. However, I have No Idea when that's going to come out! Probably within the next week or so, honestly. --But yes, to POLUS!!!! And literally _so many snuggles!_
> 
> Anyway, I hope this conclusion was as satisfying to read as it was to write 🥰 Be well!


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